


I Called Him My Jack

by sherlockian35



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Allegory, Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, John's POW, John's mother is a activisit, M/M, Omega Sherlock, apethic family relationships, implied drug addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian35/pseuds/sherlockian35
Summary: John Watson loves Sherlock for a long time. He doesn't care he's an omega or not. He learns something about his past, and he has to make a decision.No beta, no brit-picked. English is not my original language, so sorry about grammatical errors. I do not own anything about Sherlock Holmes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is belong to ex-member Harmlessengineer, I know her, and she said she had lost her muse and did not want to write anymore. I asked her for this story, it's my favorite by the way, and she gave her permission to upload again, so it is not my story, it belongs to Harmlessengineer.

Dr. Watson didn’t care it was a rainy night. His jacket was soaked with cold rain. He lost in his thoughts. More or less, he always found the same conclusion, he only wanted to Sherlock to want him. He felt himself angry. His shoulder was killing him, aching with cold. He was a soldier, he appreciated the pain. The pain was good. You could use pain for focusing. Whenever he did it, his thoughts went into only one way. Sherlock Holmes. That stubborn, insufferable git. Sherlock made him angry. He finally realized what really had happened. His heart made a decision, but his mind forced him to be rational. John Watson had tried to open his heart, tried to tell his feelings and Sherlock had left him in the restaurant, alone. He should accept that the bastard had a dramatic flare, and John hated it.  
_Their dinner arrived, food was delicious. Sherlock didn’t eat much, even they hadn’t got any case. The one and only consulting detective in the world preferred to stare outside. John knew he wasn’t with him. The soldier was accustomed his behavior. However, tonight was different. First time in their joint life, John Watson felt Sherlock didn’t need him or want his entity. It hurt him a lot. He had never thought he could have felt something towards a man like Sherlock Holmes. John Watson always tried to be significant on his beliefs or his commitments. He committed his friendship and silent love to Sherlock, but realizing the genius didn’t understand his love or commitment, didn’t understand what he really meant to Dr. John Watson snapped something sinister in John’s soul.  
He could play the same game. He was naturally a patient man. John asked slowly. “Are you bored?”  
A pair of pale gray eyes turned to him. “No.”_

_“OK.”  
“I may be going somewhere for a week.” Sherlock said suddenly.  
John blinked. “Sorry?”  
“I may be going somewhere I can’t tell you for a week.”  
John inhaled a painful breath. He finally grasped the fact, Sherlock was acting deliberately cruel and cold. He said that because he wanted to hurt John. Sherlock Holmes never gave any reason for his behaviors. He lived in a different world, high functioning sociopath indeed. He planned something, and Dr. Watson was out of his plan.  
“Why?”  
“It’s not for a case. It’s just a favor for an old acquaintance.”  
Sherlock didn’t do favors. “Are you on drugs again?” John Watson can be cruel too. Sherlock didn’t react as John expected.  
“I am not going to a rehabilitation center. You can ask Mycroft.”  
“I’ll ask.”  
Sherlock shrugged. He had been dismissed John from his life in the last couple of weeks. “You have my permission.”  
“You are an annoying git, but I am not going to fall into your trap. Just tell me Sherlock, why are you so insufferable in these days? Did I do something?”  
“No. I need to be alone for a while. A week is enough.”  
“I can stay with Mary.” Well done John, said the irritating voice in his head. You have done something now.  
“Stay in the flat. I don’t want you to fight with your ex-mate.”  
“Our separation was amicable.” John recalled.  
“Your separation was not amicable, John. Don’t be delusional, she can hold a grudge for a long time. She’s an Alpha.”_

_“May I remind you, I am an Alpha too?”_

_“Oh, I am sorry I forget my place as an poor omega.”_

_“Sherlock...” John warned._

_“Don’t worry, John. I know my status in this rotten society. I know what people think about me. I am disgraced since I refuse to be part of this cast system. I’ve suffered, suffered enough to learn even my family didn’t care of my pain, they just wanted to get rid of it. You are not different from them.”_

Perhaps, this was the reason. They had been together for so long, John usually forgot about their sub-genders. In a sharply divided society based on their sub-genders and rules, Sherlock Holmes was just an another Omega even if he was brilliant or perfect. John was never interested he was an Omega or not. Sherlock was his best friend, he was the man he loved. He didn’t care about rules dictating them John Watson was superior than Sherlock Holmes. They were friends, they were colleagues, they were everything more than those and Sherlock didn’t understand. John had every right to be angry.

John narrowed his eyes. “You want to pick a fight? Alright. I was not the one who faked his death, Sherlock. You left me in misery, I believed you are not with me anymore. I couldn’t see your face, I couldn’t hear your voice. I begged for a miracle, I prayed and cried. So what did you do? You accused me, you said I left you when I bonded with Mary. I came to you without any question. Do you know, sometimes I wish I’d never come back to home? Because you’re away from me. I don’t know why. You don’t tell me, and I started to regret my decision. I don’t want to feel like that, Sherlock.”  
Sherlock didn’t give a reply for a moment. He didn’t say anything. Gray eyes stared at him with such tormenting pain. John froze.  
“You have no idea what I am feeling tonight, John. I suppose it’s normal since you are an alpha and you’ve never been a bright observer. You of course are free to return your Alpha ex.”  
He then stood up, threw his napkin and walked out. He left John Watson alone again.  
John stopped for moment in crowded street. He needed to breathe. His eyes glazed with tears. If Sherlock didn’t leave him tonight, he had planned to propose him. Propose for a bonding. A real commitment between an Alpha and an Omega. He would never force him, never abuse him, he would respect his life, his decisions, his work.  
John Watson could have lost his faith in the army. He had lost for a while until he’d met Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock had given him a reason to live. Slowly but steadily, the man with pale gray eyes, and curls turned into his anchor to the life. He would kill for him, he had done it, he would do anything to keep him alive. He was his Sherlock, but not in a possesive way other alphas talked about boastingly. The only omega worth having was an obedient one. He was his Sherlock, because he simply loved him. Mary had understood. Wasted years, she said while she placed her hand into his. Don’t waste it anymore, John. Yes, she could hold a grudge for a long time, but her resentment was not for John, it was for the who had broken her beloved John’s heart.

  
A black car suddenly stopped near the pavement. John closed his eyes. He didn’t think he had enough patience to talk with Mycroft Holmes. However, he got in the car. Surprisingly, Mycroft was in the car. Over the years he was together with Sherlock, he never had met with Mycroft in the car.

  
“Don’t look at me like that, John.” Mycroft said. He seemed tensed. Even though his face wore his usual expressionless mask, John felt his stress. He was cold and calculated, but sometime in their life John had believed Mycroft Holmes genuinely worrying about his brother.

  
“Why am I here?”  
“Where is Sherlock?”  
“I don’t know and...”  
“Are you going to say I don’t care?”  
“Why am I here Mycroft?” John asked in a tired voice.  
“You are a good man. You are not biased, you are trying to be open minded. We are here because I need to know how much you love my brother.”  
John startled. “It’s not your business.”  
“He was afraid.”  
“What?” John was exhausted and depressed. He didn’t want to play mind games with Holmes brothers.  
“Something in his mind is not working correctly now. He likes to talk about his brain as his hard drive.” John nodded. “The hard drive has glitches, but he doesn’t know why.”  
John frowned. “How do you know that?”  
“My brother is an Omega. A human sub-species with undeniable instincts. Sherlock has been pressing them for a long time. The instincts are clear, find an Alpha, have sex, and breed. He succesfully pressed his instincts until you came into his life. Problem is we all want to him to press those instincts for a good reason.”  
“We?”  
“His family. What are your instincts? Do you feel any urgency to mate and breed? You are not young anymore. Do you feel a strange desire to continue your bloodline?”  
John would have given a reply, he would have confessed his dreams about a family, children and a mate. His mate, his Sherlock, he lied. “No, I don’t feel any desire to breed.”  
“You are naturally a father.” Mycroft sighed. “Sherlock couldn’t give it to you what you want, John.”  
It was very cold even if they were in the car. Something hard and heavy formed in his gut. He was freezing. “What are you talking about?”  
“He was kidnapped when he was eighteen by Dr. Sebastian Moran’s criminal group.” John blinked in shock. He of course had heard about Dr. Sebastian Moran and his unlawful experiments on Omegas. That man had killed thirteen omegas. He had run and never caught. “He had remained as their prisoner for sixteen months until we found him.”  
“Did you just say Sherlock was a subject of his experiments? He never told me.”  
“He doesn’t remember.”  
“How?” John’s lips curved into a feral snarl.  
“We encouraged him to delete it. He easily accompanied our wishes since he was heavily drugged during those months. Sebastian Moran was an Omega, and he wanted to be a powerful Omega. He injected some kind of genetically altered virus to them. He tried to turn Omegas into alphas and betas.”  
For a moment John felt nothing but emptiness. There wasn’t happily ever after for him and Sherlock. His Sherlock was sick, and he didn’t know it. “What is the prognosis?”  
“He can live a long and healthy life. The virus ruined some part of his reproductive system. Sherlock can’t bear a child. He knows it, due to erasing and implanting fake memories process, he thinks his condition is congenital. We had done, what we had to do.”  
“What else?” John asked curtly.  
“He could live because this virus can’t take a shelter in the body after it ruined his main target. His blood results have shown he is free from it for years.”  
“Don’t play with me, Mycroft. What else?”  
Mycroft stared at him. “Moran also tried to breed Omega-Omega couples. He injected the virus to his subjects after giving birth. He wanted to establish his pure Omega army, and the abductees were his source.”  
John closed his eyes in despair. “ Oh God...” He whispered. “Did Sherlock...”  
“We only found some of his journals, the entry indicated that subject number 21 had given birth a healthy boy. When the boy was a month old, he vanished from the list. No one had found Moran’s secret headquarter. The boy most likely was taken there. After that, Sherlock was exposed the virus.”  
“He has a son, and he doesn’t know it.” He muttered in pain.  
“I am not sure the boy is still alive.” John startled against the plain truth.  
“And he won’t have any children.”

“You are an Alpha. You ultimately want children, and my brother doesn’t have that ability anymore. End it here tonight, John. He could live without you, but he couldn’t live if you would leave him for a family he can’t give you.”  
“I need to think. Did you try...?”  
“Yes. I had tried to find my nephew. I believe, he’s dead. I didn’t find anything about him.”  
“Was Sherlock... raped?” John whispered.  
“Artificial insemination.” Mycroft said coldly.  
John bit his lower lip. “Has he ever gone into heat?”  
“Only he was in there. Then, he has been on suppressants since the incident. However, he can still go into heat. His body can produce an egg, but it can’t keep the embryo.”  
“You talked about glitches. What is the problem?”  
“Sherlock was not perfect on his deleting method when he was young. Erasing wasn’t an impeccable one. Anything about bonding or breeding trigger the residue data. He loves you, and he wants to be with you. Residues wave in his head, he feels himself sick.” John desperately needed to believe Sherlock loved him.

“Is there another way to delete the residues of those memories?”

“It only destructs his brain. He strongly rejects society rules, but he’s still an Omega. His existence can not stand the idea of losing his baby completely even if he doesn’t remember him.”  
“Have you ever thought of telling Sherlock about his son?”  
“No. What does he gain except pain?”  
John nodded silently. He had so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t.

  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
John walked towards their home. He loved Sherlock just as he was. Sherlock was disdainful anything relating to sex and emotions. Everyone, including his own brother thought that Sherlock hated being an Omega, but John had realized a long time ago it’s not a hate. Sherlock Holmes didn’t know what he did do with his body and its claims. It confused his head. He wasn’t sure how to classify those requests. He just didn’t understand emotions, even if they belonged to him. He didn’t know how he looked gorgeous, or how he got a lot of attention when they’re in public. Sherlock always deduced they stared at him because he was unbonded omega.  
He didn’t think people stared at him, because he was a beautiful sample of the human race.  
He felt in his soul, they were all wrong. He knew Sherlock. He always knew him. His family would have believed Sherlock deleted everything about his kidnapping, and birth. They didn’t realize he was a warrior. Now, every little word, every gesture, his anger in the restaurant had to gain some meaning. I’ve suffered, suffered enough to learn even my family didn’t care of my pain, they just wanted to get rid of it. You are not different from them. But he was different. He cared about most irritating man he’d ever met. His Sherlock didn’t erase those memories. He had just pretended to do it, and silently mourned.

  
You have no idea what I am feeling tonight, John. I suppose it’s normal since you are an alpha and you’ve never been a bright observer. John forced himself to think. When all clues combined and placed, during all of these years they lived together, Sherlock Holmes became more introverted and quite in certain day of the year. He spent all of his day in his mind palace. Never spoken, never eaten, never shown any emotion. Today it was the day, and he’d never thought about it. He’d chosen this night to propose him. Only day, Sherlock Holmes retreated his mind palace and mourned for his lost son.  
“Oh, Sherlock...” He murmured. It should be the day they took his boy from him.  
He took out his phone. He slowly text his message. He didn’t expect a reply, but John Watson had to do.  
I love you.  
John started to walk, his phone vibrated five minutes later. He didn’t realize he put his phone on silent.  
“Yes?” He said hesitantly.  
“Do you really love me?” Sherlock asked, his voice was steady.  
“I do love you, git.” John chuckled.  
“Do you still love me if I am telling you, I am sterile?” Sherlock said harshly.  
“I don’t want you because you are an omega Sherlock, I want you because you are my brilliant, beautiful Sherlock.”  
“Mycroft told you, didn’t he? It hurts, John. Why it still so hurts even after all those year?”  
“I know, but you have me.”  
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” His voice quivered. “His name was Jack. I called him my Jack. Do you know what is the hardest thing I did in my life?”  
“Tell me.” John murmured.  
“I don’t want to attract attention of Alphas, not after I lost my baby. No one wants a sociopath. I knew how she felt, John.”  
“Who?”  
“Jennifer Wilson. The lady in pink. I pretended not to understand why she had chosen her stillborn daughter as her password, but I understood her. She missed her Rachel, like I miss my Jack.”  
“I’ll be at home in ten minutes. Then we’ll talk.”  
“John?”  
“Just say it, Sherlock.”  
“I love you, too.” Sherlock said softly.

The flat was dark, the lights were went off. There wasn’t any light coming from outside. John desperately wanted to do something, anything to find Moran, torture him, kill him. Everyone said omegas were driven by their instincts, but alphas had instincts too. Protect your mate was the first. John Watson was a doctor. After his honorable discharge, he’d worked in different clinics, and seen a lot of disturbing things. Modern society gave rights to omegas, but life for an omega was not much that civilize in the country. An unbonded omega still would be a money source for their families or he would kill by his family for unwanted pregnancy. Subspecies equality didn’t work in many work fields, although the rules said otherwise. John didn’t know the statistics, but he was sure domestic violence were not rare in alpha/omega couples. The victim usually chose not to contact the police. They didn’t believe police could help. An alpha would kill his mate and he could get away easily. They always used the same excuse. My mate had an affair. An alpha could terminate his/her bond using cheap excuses, my mate didn’t do house works. My mate didn’t cook.

John Watson had strong moral codes. He believed in equality. It didn’t require to having fewer rights or deserving lower wages since they’re omegas or betas or females. John missed military, everyone was equal in the battlefield. No one cared in war, whether you’re alpha or omega. John had seen brave omegas, and coward alphas. Weakness or cowardice was not gender specific.

He checked Sherlock’s bedroom, he was sleeping. His breaths were deep and steady. They had their problems, but it could wait until the morning. Sherlock should rest. The consulting detective was a man of habits; but eating and sleeping were not his favorite features of life. It’s a case of opposites attract. John five years older than Sherlock, Sherlock five inches taller than John. John was stocky, Sherlock was lanky. They were so different, yet, they had been started to live in the same flat within a day. They had lived together for three blissful years until Sherlock’s tragic death. No one should have had to watch the death of a man they loved. Something strained since the day Sherlock resurrected from dead. John Watson was a loyal man, he waited loyalty in return. He trusted Sherlock, he believed Sherlock trusted in him. When Sherlock didn’t talk about his faking my death plan, the trust was damaged. He always tried to protect him, his urge was not related to being an alpha and omega. It was related to the indomitable friendship John felt for Sherlock. He accepted several years ago, that arrogant man was his weakest spot.

He turned the light on, and took his laptop. He slowly typed the words while he was sitting on their long-suffering sofa. Sebastian Moran.

There were no records about omega repression coming from his middle class family. He studied biology, he had a Ph. D. degree in genetic engineering. Dr. Sebastian Moran joined an omega equality movement when he was 25 years old. He went to protests, established some speeches. Typical young and furious omega. There was nothing wrong about going to protests. John’s mother was a well-known omega activist, and she had taken them to marches when they were just wee children. John and Harriet shouted for equality even if they were both alphas. Father had never interfered his mate’s strong and deep education on equality. John’s maternal grandfather had been the first omega pilot in the RAF during second world war. He had medals for his courage under fire. Sherlock always confused about his open-mindedness on touchy subjects. It was the effect of Hillary “Hills” Watson.

Moran hadn’t committed any crime until his sister had been killed by her fiance. The alpha had gotten away from the murder charges. Moran had become obsessed with the idea of changing omegas to alphas or betas. He wanted his own revolution. He started to kidnap omegas all over the country. He used them as experimental samples. He had run before the bust with his inner circle. Police had found thirteen graves, they belonged the omegas whom died in the experiments. Twenty five people survived. Their names were never released. Law enforcements had known Moran had a secret facility, but they had never found it. Sebastian Moran still was one of the most wanted fugitives in the world.  
Mycroft believed the boy was dead. He probably was right. There were not any news about babies in the press, Mycroft might have covered it.

 “When did you come?” John startled.

Sherlock was standing at the threshold, crossing his arms on his chest. His face was paler than usual, but he had never looked so handsome in John’s eyes. Black curls dishevelled around his face, his eyes turned into dark blue under the dim light.

 “Half an hour ago.”

 “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

 “You need your beauty sleep.”

Sherlock sighed. “No need to bother yourself.”

“Sorry?”

“Mycroft has the sources of intelligence services and governments. He had failed to catch him. You can’t find Sebastian Moran using a web browser.”

“I didn’t try to find him.” An ordinary conversation was never easy with Sherlock. Sherlock seemed to regain his control. He wasn’t the same man talking about his pain on the phone. John didn’t know how he could reach him again. Anything related with emotions was always delicate matters for them.

“What were you doing?”

“Just collecting some information. Come, sit with me.”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, then he shrugged and sat on the sofa beside John. “Don’t worry about my fragile emotional state. There is no sensitive, emotional condition for me.”

“I am not worrying.” John lied. “Maybe we should discuss the terms of our bond contract.”

Sherlock side glanced at John. He didn’t run or stiffen. John thought it was a positive sign.

“Who did say anything about bonding?” Sherlock smirked.

“Don’t be facetious, Sherlock. You’re the one who said the L word.”

“You said it too.”

“I don’t deny it.”

I don’t do house works.”

“You never did it. We can find a cleaning service, I don’t want bullet holes on walls.”

“Ever the optimist. I don’t cook.”

“I can cook. No one in their right mind allows you to cook either. I don’t want to be poisoned.” Sherlock snorted.

“I can’t bear a child. Do you accept a childless future as an alpha? Your family’s bloodline would not continue if you were with me.” His voice was painfully toneless. Sherlock was detached again, and John’s energy gradually drained.

“I don’t think my bloodline is in immediate danger.”

“What will your parents say about it?”

“My parents didn’t raise a hypocrite.”

“You don’t talk about your parents.”

“Harry and I might not agree on anything, but I don’t have any problems with my parents.”

“Then why don’t you talk about them?”

John didn’t give a quick reply. “It’s complicated.” He said finally.

“Your family haven’t got a Mycroft, so you are better than us.”

John laughed at the idea. “Hillary Watson is my mother, Sherlock.”

Sherlock turned his head, his eyes widened in disbelief. John distracted, he was charmed by the dark curls falling onto Sherlock’s forehead. “Seriously? Great Hills is your mother? Why didn’t you introduce me to her? Are you ashamed of me?”

 “For God’s sake, I am not ashamed of you.” John said neutrally, almost dispassionately. “Our relationship strained after I joined the army. She didn’t like it, and we argued a lot. Her personality can crush you if you’re not strong enough. We were taken to protests by her, carrying signs, shouting slogans. Once, we got in a fight with police, I was nine and Harry was twelve. They jumped on my mother. She had to leave us alone in the crowd. I didn’t cry, but I was really scared. An overanxious constable grabbed me by my collar, Harry kicked the poor guy in the nuts, so we could run. It’s the summary of my childhood. I still don’t know how I passed the security investigation, when I applied to army.”

 “She is your mother, but she is a symbol for my gender.” Sherlock reminded. Sherlock has rarely shown respect to another human being. John wasn’t sure he was, whether flattered or jealous.

“It’s not easy to live with a symbol, Sherlock. Her expectations are always high. I guess, she was disappointed by her children. Harry is an alcoholic, and I am a veteran.”

 “What about your father? Is he an alpha?”

 “Yes. I suspect that he is as insane as my mother. He has a separate bank account for court and bail costs. He could have bought a house in an upscale neighborhood with the money he’d spent on lawyers.” John rolled his eyes.

Sherlock giggled. “What is his job?”

 “He’s a veterinarian, specializing in equines. It’s a very lucrative job by the way. His annual income has a lot of figures, I think.”

 “Why didn’t you ask him for help?”

John shrugged. He had an idea. To test it, he closed his laptop’s screen, stretching widely, arms rising over his head, his arms suddenly falling back, and his right arm placed on the back of their sofa, just behind Sherlock’s shoulder. He moved slightly, leaned forward to place his hand on Sherlock’s thigh and rewarded with a light kick in his shin.

 “John... really? Be more creative.”

John shook his head as he corrected his position. “What are your other terms?”

 “Work. I will continue my work. It’s not open for a bargain.”

 “No problem, as long as you take me with you. It’s OK.”

 “Did Mycroft talk about suppressants?” Sherlock hesitated. John nodded slowly. “Don’t ask me to cut my medication.”

John tilted his head. “Why?”

“Did he mention the virus?”

“Yes.” John licked his lower lip, tensing.

Sherlock never dealt with his emotions in order. His usual mechanism was flight instead of John’s fight. He suppressed them, and he hoped they were temporary. Sherlock Holmes overanalyzed everything, he liked to connect dots, but he couldn’t understand his own feelings. John didn’t think he’s a high functional sociopath. Yes, he had some characteristics of a sociopath. John believed it mingled with Asperger Syndrome. Sherlock didn’t have a tendency to lie, but he intentionally or unintentionally (no one knew the truth) tried to manipulate people around him. He could feel guilty (Holmesian kind of guilt, not working properly, sometimes), he could grasp the consequences of his actions, and could feel remorse if it’s necessary. Sociopaths didn’t have the ability of establishing relationships. Sherlock established firm and strong relations with few people such as Mrs. Hudson, John Watson, Molly Hooper (John didn’t forgive her completely, not yet) and DI Lestrade.

Sherlock Holmes created a glamour for himself; a cold, highly analytic machine free from any emotion. The reality was so different. Sherlock was the most intelligent and unconfident person John Watson had ever met. He had a constant hunger for John’s approval and praising.

He still wore his cold mask on his face. Pushing him to do something he didn’t want it generally resulting in a fight at the end so John waited patiently.

Sherlock thoughtfully said. “My viral load is almost zero. It’s not sexually transmitting disease, at least. The virus always sticks with the host because it’s manipulated in accordance to the recipient’s DNA. It’s a kind of retrovirus. My viral load is very low because I am not going into heat. I have worked on my condition for years, unfortunately, there is no cure. Mycroft simply doesn’t understand the nature of this virus. It asserts itself in a particular sequence of the host’s genome, then acting like a silent gene. Presence of certain hormones triggers the transcription and translation. The expression process accelerates depending on the level of those hormones in blood. High level hormone in my blood means high viral load. As long as I am using suppressants, and avoiding heat cycles. I won’t be ill, and it will stay under control.”

“Did you try antiretrovirals instead of suppressants?”

“I tried it, and it didn’t work.” John watched him carefully as Sherlock spoke. “I am sorry, you will be deprived of the pleasures of heat coupling, if you would bond with me.”

 _When I am being angry with your mother murderously, and I must strongly emphasize that it’s not a rare experience for me. I desperately want to shake her, or pick up a loud fight, but I try to keep myself calm, I focus on how much I love her even if I hate her at that moment. If it doesn’t work, I remind myself, she is not only my mate, she is also my best friend. Passion is temporary, John. You can’t rely on lust in order to maintain a relationship. You need three special things; love, respect and friendship. I love her, I respect her, and I value her friendship more than anything in the world. However, I am not afraid of losing her love, I am afraid of losing her respect, and her friendship._  
_One day, when you feel murderously angry, and object of your anger is your mate. Think my words, son. Stay calm. Focus on your love. If your love is gone, then think about your friendship. Relationships won’t be over until couples lose their respect for each other._

John supposed this was the best advice his father had ever given him. After their mother arrested, and Harry was shown her kick-box skills, they had ran to his clinic. James H. Watson had listened his children’s frantic babbling about the police and the arrest of their mother in a freakingly calm manner. Harry was furious with her mom, she had almost been hysterical, James had allowed her to go to a friend’s house until she would feel normal. John had been with him all the day while he’d made arrangements for her releasing from custody. Then, John and his father talked about relationships for the first and last time.

“Suppression of the heat cycle with suppressants may cause uterine and ovarian cancers in female omegas, they also may increase cardiovascular problems and testicular cancer risk in male omegas. Did anyone recommend surgical removing instead of using suppressants?”

“No. Does it work?” John didn’t like the clear eagerness in his voice.

“I don’t know. You should understand, it’s not popular. Females react better than males. It’s the end of child bearing. It’s especially hard for people identify themselves with their ability of having a child. Omegas and beta females are proud of their fertility, and raise being proud of it. Mood swings, crying spells, insomnia, depression and anxiety are not rare emotional impacts.”

“I am already an insomniac and sterile. What difference does it make?” Sherlock snapped, he was irritated.

“You are sterile, but you still have your organs. It makes a huge difference. They may not be functional, but they’re still in your body. Considering your emotional state, I don’t think such an operation would be good for you.”

 “There is nothing wrong with my emotional state.” Sherlock spat angrily. Anger was better than shut himself away from the world option.

“You faced a lot of stressful conditions in the last few years. Admit it or not, you also have unresolved issues. _A priori_ stress factors may exacerbate post-op problems.”

“Mycroft once said caring was not an advantage.”

“My mother always said all’s fair in love and war.”

“It’s extremely irrelevant, John.”

“Yes, it is. May I remind you my mother is the symbol for your gender?”

“My brother is the government.”

“Touche.”

Sherlock suddenly barked a laugh. He leant his head back of the sofa, breathing harshly. His eyes fixed some spot on the ceiling.

“I’d only see him twice.” He muttered. “Is it natural missing someone I barely know?”

“Yes.” John tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

“Do you know what is phantom pain?”

“The patients feel pain in a limb or an organ that is not attached to their body anymore.” His throat was so dry, he coughed.

“Jack is my phantom limb, John. I accept the fact that he’s not with me anymore, but I still feel the pain.”

“Why did you act like you deleted it?”

“If I didn’t do it, I could have spend the rest of my life in an asylum. I’d already had my schizoid personality disorder, sociopathy, and borderline personality disorder diagnoses when I was sixteen.”

“It’s so absurd. You are not borderline.”

“Am I schizoid?”

“Well, yes.”

“Am I sociopath?”

“Sometimes. Do you have any idea about where he’d gone?”

“Every one of them failed. I’d thought Moriarty could have known, but he used you, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade to force me. He could have easily burnt my heart with the information of my son’s whereabouts or my son had already been dead, and the information was useless. I believe he’s dead for long years.”

John cleared his throat. They could use a break. He couldn’t stand seeing him in pain. His attempt to change the subject evaluated as a hopeless one, but he tried anyway. “My mother is funnier than Mycroft though. Harry didn’t accept her schemes so easily while she’s growing up. I was her perfect accomplice. She chained us up to a gate once. It was a disaster. She’d forgotten the key. My father wasn’t in the town. Police had gotten tired of her. They left us there chained, and it turned into a media circus.”

“Why did she chain herself up?” Sherlock asked curiously.

“It’s about a court. An omega female killed her mate. The judge sentenced her life. He was an alpha, and he didn’t consider mitigating circumstances. Theirs was a clear domestic violence case. She was beaten even when she’s pregnant. Poor thing was exhausted, and scared for her and the baby’s life. The same judge had freed an alpha raped and murdered his mate a year ago, he said he had every right to kill his unfaithful mate. The omega’s family wasn’t a traditionalist one, they sold everything they had got for hiring a detective and a fine lawyer. Their search revealed that he had never been unfaithful, his mate had an affair, and didn’t want to pay alimony to him. My mother pissed off incredibly.”

“What had happened to female omega and the judge?”

“Her sentence reduced to five years, and he retired. My mother won an award for her efforts that year. When she released from prison, mother gave her a job in her organization, EFE. Equality for Wveryone. She still works in there. “John noticed Sherlock’s stare at his face. He rubbed his nose anxiously. “Is there something on my face?”  
“No. You love her, and proud of her.”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“My own family forced me to delete memories of my son. Even if they were horrible, they were only memories I’ve got about him. I had already been in rehab center twice, and had been in mental facility once when I was 21, and my family put me in there. My father told me, for God’s sake Sherlock, just get rid of it. You look tired, John.”

“I am tired.” John smiled in sorrow. “Why don’t you sleep a little more?”

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

“We should rest. Just try for me, OK.”

Sherlock nodded. He placed his hand on John’s shoulder hesitantly. “I wasn’t lying on the phone.”

John held his thin wrist, and squeezed lightly. “I know, Sherlock. I know.”

When he was alone again, John Watson closed his eyes. He was uncomfortable, and felt exasperated. Sebastian Moran joined an organization fifteen years ago, his mother had already been a member.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Traders was an old fashioned, dimly lighted bar. It was a quiet day. Glorious days of rebel, fight, and the protest had gone long ago. John vividly remembered the meetings her mother organized. She and her friends had been gathered here. They discussed what they would do next while they had been drinking beer like the future would never come. Little Hills ran around the tables, sometimes helped them to paint their signs. John was a grown man now, and the past turned into dusty glasses. He’d argued with his mother about joining the army in Traders. The first girl who had really liked rejected him in here. Her name was Sarah. She was the daughter of an activist. John didn’t remember her father’s name, but he remembered her clearly.

Traders had been like protecting, warm shell to John during his childhood. The smell of pine scented cleaning liquid, and beer hit him hardly. The place smelled as same as in his childhood, but the boy changed. He couldn’t secretly drink lukewarm beer with other boys in the rear garden anymore. They called him Little Hills, he had never been a Little John or Little Watson, but they called his sister with her name, Harriet. He was the Great Hill’s son. Her legacy. John had never thought, he ‘d left her when he joined the army. John had never thought Harry had been jealous of him. It had never come into his mind, she could have wanted to call Little Hills. If Sherlock was here, he would sigh against his blindness desperately.

He was worried about Sherlock. Sherlock had surprised him in the morning, declaring he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten so much, a slice of bread and raspberry jam. They drank their tea in comfortable silence. Sherlock didn’t basically know how to make a small talk. John had given up trying ages ago. Then, Sherlock said he still would go, however, he would back in two days. He wouldn’t stay for a week. John didn’t insist to go with him, he seemed pleased, and happy. Sherlock might need John’s constant approval and praising, but also he needed his freedom and John’s trust. John wanted to kiss his neck while he was wearing his jacket, Sherlock’s good mood was rapidly vaporized.  He flinched without realizing he did hurt John. It seemed like they were playing a game, one step forward, then two steps backward. You can’t catch your mate, Little Hills. John actually caught unguard when Sherlock said he was sorry. John didn’t make an attempt to kiss him again, but he invited him to meet his mother. A cruel part of his soul pleased to see Sherlock’s disappointment in his mesmerizing heterochromatic eyes. Sherlock politely refused, he indicated he should go. John said goodbye as politely as possible. They awkwardly looked at each other for a minute. John was annoyed. If Sherlock was reluctant to understand his emotions, how could he accept John’s. Sherlock was his anchor to the life, John was terrified when he suddenly realized he was also Sherlock’s anchor to the world. He could be able to function because John was with him now. It couldn’t be considered a proud moment for John Watson. While he silently got a conclusion that Sherlock was unwilling to work on their relationship, he didn’t even comprehend how much he meant to heartless detective.

John’s jaw clenched as he stepped on the bar’s threshold. He was aware of the unfavorable traits in his personality. John Watson was calm and patient, very good traits for a doctor. He could keep his anger under control for a long time, but his anger occasionally released with a sudden explosion. Trust issues his therapist had written in her journal. He couldn’t trust a person in hours. He trusted Sherlock when the moment he asked Afghanistan or Iraq. John knew why he easily accepted him. He wholeheartedly hated when someone showing pity or sympathy to him since he’s a veteran. He trusted Sherlock Holmes, he sensed that lean man would never think he’s less a man or inadequate since he had been injured, and using a cane.

John glanced around the entrance. Hillary Watson had already sat on the table near a window, looking at outside. Her graying dirty blond hair cut short, no make up other than a light lipstick. She was an inch taller than John. He accepted this reality a long time ago, everyone was taller than him even his mother. She hadn’t changed much, dressed smartly, a green sweater, and light beige pants. Her phone was on the table, Hillary despised cell phones. She never used it unless it’s necessary. She turned her head as if she had felt her son’s presence. Her dark blue eyes focused on him, then she smiled. John had his mother’s eyes and lips.

Hillary might be a difficult person to live with, but she was still his omega parent. She waved her hand. “Hey, John.”

John returned her smile bit reluctantly. He sat down opposite her chair. “Hi, mom. How are you?”

“I’ve seen worst days.” She said plainly. “What would you want to drink?”

She signed to the waiter, Watson alphas learned their lessons firmly. Hillary never allowed “I am the alpha, I order” attitude. John noticed the waiter was young, he might have not known the Traders past fame. He looked a little confused since John was apparently an alpha and the older woman was an omega. John sighed inwardly. He wasn’t ready for a fight, still he rolled his shoulders.  Their parents involved in a heated bar crawl a few years ago.

He was living with Sherlock for a month. His cell had rung at two p.m. An unlucky waiter refused to take orders from an omega, James punched him, broke the man’s nose. At the end of the night, James had a broken left arm, and Hillary had dislocated shoulder. John had found them laughing like hyenas in the A & E. The triage nurse was an old friend from his intern days. He recognized their names, and called him. John had run to A & E in panic. He’d genuinely wished he could have killed his parents. They’re high from the pre-anaesthetics given before encasing in plaster the broken bone, and the close reduction of Hillary’s shoulder. Sherlock had found the situation nonessential. He didn’t like it John rushed to the hospital in anger and panic.

While John was sitting opposite his mother, he finally understood why James would never leave his mate. James addicted to excitement, just like his son. He’s seeing battlefield when he’s with her. He voluntarily put himself in danger, because he felt alive. John inherited his reckless behavior from him. John would never leave Sherlock. All of the world was their battlefield.

_“John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You’re abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people…”_

It’s not the time for discussing his ex-alpha mate, her shady past or Sherlock’s involvement. He went back to him, separated from her, and he didn’t like hearing Sherlock’s baritone in his head, especially when he was right on about something. Fortunately, the waiter took their orders without a fuss.

 “A pint of bitter would be good.” He also ordered chips. His mother went for white wine.

 “So how have you been lately, John?”

“I’ve seen better days.” John grunted. Hillary looked at her son. She licked her lower lip, nervously.

“Are you ill?” Hillary asked suddenly.

He was puzzled. “What? No, I of course am not.”

“Are you financially better?”

John blinked. “I am fine. Why do you ask?” Their conversation was getting weirder in each second.

“Is there any problem with your significant other?”

To give his right, John Watson never be looked so stoic, ever in his life. “ _Who_?”

“You tell me.”

“What are we talking about, mother?” John supposed he lost the trail of their communication in somewhere.

“Good question. Because I really want to know why I am here. My son is thirty five years old. He never invited me for a pint before.”

She stared at him with her best “I am your mother so I know when you’re lying” look. Her stare worked, John felt himself as if he was fourteen years old again, getting why prophylactic was so important in his life speech in a minute. Hillary had given the speech. James was a vet, when he usually explained reproduction, it was so painfully detailed. Omega parents were the scariest creatures in the world.

“Should not I have invited my mother to drink?” John said weakly.

“Are you with someone?” It’s the soft and understanding voice she used before extracting crucial information from her victim. John gained some resistance to it at least.

“Why do you ask?”

“Then why I am here? You haven’t got a lover. No financial problems. You are separated from your mate. You’re finally free to find someone better than her. Thank God for his miracles. I’d never like that woman.”

“Mother!”

“What?” Hillary asked innocently. She sipped her wine.

“She didn’t like you either.”

“Should I be upset? Don’t play with those poor chips, John. Eat them.”

John looked at his pint. It’s an interrogation, Mycroft would be envied of her torturing skills.

“If I am admitted, will you stop harassing me?”

“No.” Hillary grinned. She refilled her glass again. She wasn’t an alcoholic, not like Harry, but John slightly concerned about her drinking speed.

“I am with Sherlock.” He felt the pressure in his chest lifted lightly.

It might not be the correct way to explain their relationship. They didn’t have sex, hell, they didn’t even sleep in the same bed, no bonding, the courting stage was not going according to the text books.

Hillary put her glass back on the table. She looked more serious now. “Spill the beans, John.”

“I decided to bond with him. I love him for a long time.” _There, it’s not that bad John, right? Right?_

“He’s an omega, isn’t he?” Her gaze on John hardened.

“He’s an omega.” He said curtly.

“You said I, not we. If you force him anything he doesn’t want to do, I’ll…. I am not sure what I will do, but it certainly would be painful.”

John took a deep breath. “No need for violence. We have a few issues. Sherlock is not an easy person.” _Underestimation of our century, the treacherous voice in his head said._

“Does he love you?”

“He said he loved me.”

“Since I am your mother, you must learn that omegas are seen the lowest group of the totem pole in many societies. The position of male omegas is the worst. There are a lot of laws protecting our rights, but those are usually ignored. We were forbidden to go to college eighty years ago. We didn’t have rights to vote until 1960’s. Your grandfather fought in war, injured, promoted a squadron leader, claimed two Ju-87 in one day and they didn’t allow him to vote until 1962. Our rights as a human being had been suppressed and ignored throughout the history. Omegas still can’t own his/her property without their mate’s permission, haven’t got any rights on their body in several countries. An omega doesn’t get an equal pay for the same job, even a menial job in this fucking world.”

John stayed silent through her lecture obediently. “Yes, mom.” He murmured.

“I know my son is a good man. Not a hypocrite, not an abuser, his mind is not perplexed with delusional ideas of sex and breeding.”

“I am not so sure about the sex.” John snickered. He blushed, but he couldn’t resist anyway.

“You damn well know what I mean.” Hillary snapped angrily. “Sexual and emotional abuse are significantly higher in alpha/omega and alpha/alpha couples than other groups, if they’re both male.”

“I would never do anything to hurt Sherlock!” John was offended. 

“You are not my Little Hills anymore, but I am not sad. My boy grew up, and became a fine man makes his omega-parent so proud.” Hillary said. She put her hand on her son’s, holding his fingers tightly.

John froze. Their relationship had never been the same after John had joined the army. Hillary should have figured out in that day her little boy had no longer been a child, he was a young man ready to leave his sheltered nest. Every omega experienced this pain in one day.

John gulped. His mate, his handsome, arrogant, stubborn Sherlock would never have this chance. “Thank you.”

She pulled her hand back. Hillary had never been a sentimental creature. She had practical, calculating, and bit scary personality. Sherlock and Hillary had not met yet. John thought they would like each other, considering Sherlock’s admiration to her.

John startled when his phone vibrated. He threw a glance at the message.

 _“I’ve arrived.”_ He sighed. Sherlock had the worst sense of timing in the world. Hillary didn’t like people constantly messaging each other. If he wouldn’t reply, God only knew what Sherlock assumed. He texted his reply rapidly.

_“Talk later. OK? Lunch with mother.”_

_“OK. Send my regards to her.”_

“Sherlock sends his regards.” Hillary raised an eyebrow.

“Where is he?”

“On a case. He’s going back the day after tomorrow.”

“What are you feeling when he is not with you?”

“Restless.” John said sincerely.

“Do you feel an irrational jealousy about other alphas around him?”

 _You are not my therapist Great Hills_ , John said inwardly. He shook his head. “I feel it, but I think it’s just in reference values for rationality. He’s handsome. If I am to be honest, he looks gorgeous. People always stares at him. To my luck, he’s a straightforward, not a bit emphatic annoying dick with sociopathic tendencies, any alpha’s chance of courting with him is almost zero. I am rather worried about him than being jealous when he’s alone. Because of those positive personality traits I’ve just mentioned, he’s a walking magnet for a trouble. Sherlock may argue with his own shadow.”

Hillary laughed heartily. “I want to meet him.”

“He wants to meet you too. I am sure you are going to be like each other… bit too much for my taste, I guess.”

“I’ve already liked him.” Hillary checked her watch. “I am having a good time, but I’ll have a meeting in an hour, John.” The warning was polite, but firm. John signaled the waiter freshen their drinks. His mouth suddenly went dry.

“Do you want grandchildren, mother?”

“Every parent want grandchildren. It’s about evolutionary instincts. Continuation of their genes et cetera.”

John felt himself horrified. It seemed their conversation was not going to end well. Harriet was an alcoholic, her mate left her. A child wouldn’t appear in the near future for his sister. He wouldn’t have a child either, unless he would commit adultery.

“Well, I’ve just learned what I need.” He said carefully.

“You’ve just learned the general idea not mine. The life is shit, John. Anything can happen at any moment. You’d seen it with your own eyes. Can you guess what I was doing as my world falling apart around me?”

“No.” He stiffened.

“I was doing laundry. Such a mundane, boring task. I wasn’t in the field. I didn’t do something changing the world. I was grouching about my mate’s dirty socks. My phone rang. It was your father. He said that I must have stayed calm, but our son had been… I didn’t hear the rest. I’d only thought my son was dead. My little boy was gone. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t move. The only thing I could do was sitting on the floor while James was trying to talk to me on the phone. My world fractured in a split second. One moment I was a rebellious omega with two children grouching about his mate’s habits, a minute later I was mourning. When he was at home, James tried to convince me you’re just injured, but I didn’t believe him for hours. I wasn’t only mourned for your death, I was mourned to all those missed opportunities. There was no chance to amend them. Our relationship had strained, and I was not aware we hadn’t spoken with each other for six months until the call.”

John blinked in daze.  “I am sorry.”

“I do love both of you. Harriet has been always a daddy’s girl with all her faults and glories, _you_ are mine since the day you were born. I can’t promise behalf of your father, but I can promise for me. Whatever happens in your life, I’ll be there for you. No matter how hard, no matter how unorthodox. I don’t care, and I’ll be there. I am the Great Hills. I don’t give a fuck to anyone.”

John swallowed. His eyes were burning. “Language mother. I need your help, Great Hills.”

“Tell me.” She ordered.

“It must remain in secret.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Is that enough?”

John nodded. “What do you know about Sebastian Moran?”

Hillary tilted his head, questioning his intentions. Her blue eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“Sherlock is a victim of his experiments. When he was eighteen, he was kidnapped by his gang. He was captured for 16 months. Sherlock is very sick. He can’t have a child because of him. I am angry, mom. I can’t explain how much I am angry. Sebastian Moran took something so special from my mate. Do you know something about babies?”

“Babies?” Hillary looked at him in shock. She grabbed her glass, drinking whole wine in a one gulp. She put her glass back on the table. “Can you tell me everything in order John?”

“Sebastian Moran infected his victims with a kind of retrovirus. The virus affected their reproduction organs. Sherlock is sick, all of his victims should have been sick. He wanted to turn them to alphas and betas genetically. He didn’t infect them until they had babies. No one knows what had happened to the babies. A government official close to us said Sherlock’s baby should have been dead.”

“Oh my God.” Hillary whispered.

“You are an omega, mother. You should understand what it means to be sterile for an omega. I won’t have children because of a lunatic named Sebastian Moran ruined my mate’s organs. I can’t say that Sherlock is a definition of normal, but he lives in constant pain he doesn’t deserve it. He uses suppressants to prevent heat. He can believe sentiment is a chemical defect or I always feel “just strangle him” when he’s speaking, but he’s my mate.  He is a brilliant man, so clever, so beautiful. I can’t bear his suffering and mourning in silence. You’d learned the taste of losing a child. You’re lucky, your boy is still alive. Sherlock is not.”

“So you think his baby is alive?”

“No, mom. Mourning is not easy if you don’t know where your child’s grave is. I do intend to find it. Sherlock doesn’t find peace until he finds out what really happened to his son.”

Hillary looked pale. “Sebastian Moran was a dedicated young man. He was hot-headed, and insurgent. I didn’t like him much. I wasn’t interested in him. It could have been a mistake, but I didn’t see any quality in him for our cause except his scientific intelligence. We’re in different fractions in the same organization. He’s from a traditional middle class family. Alpha male, omega female. He had an omega-sister, two years younger than him. Their bond was quite strong. He was a radical, but Blair, the head of the organization kept him under tight leash. However, he didn’t indulge in it until his sister had been killed by her fiance. I’d heard one day he vanished, then omega kidnappings had been on the press after a year later.”

“He should have had friends. Did anyone disappear at the same time?”

“Me and Blair had already left before it, establishing of our own organization. It was the root of EFE. I should be honest, we’d decided it because we’re uneasy. Blair and I would have fought with police, carried signs, opened petitions or shouted slogans, but we were not extremists. They had been starting to talk about operations dangerously close to the terrorism. There were so many factions in there didn’t get along with each other famously.”

“You’re afraid.” John said. He was surprised. He always thought Great Hills were never afraid of action.

“I have got children, John. The problem about terroristic operations, it could easily get back to the organizer. I have still got some connections. I’ll dig for information. Blair could know something. I am sorry about your mate, son. I’ll always support both of you. Sherlock Holmes is a lucky man, since he has you.”

“I am the lucky one.” His chin rose in a defiant manner. Hillary gave him a hard look.

“I appreciate your urge to defend your mate. It’s a decent thing to do. Now, our society is strong alpha-centric caste system, and its design based on breeding. There is a department of population in the government. If any member in the system could not breed, he or she is evaluated as dysfunctional. Those dysfunctional members should be outcast. They’re usually abused, humiliated or excluded. If your value as a human only measures with your capability of having a child, infertility is a nightmare. Fear is the most dangerous thing in the world, especially the fear against those different than others. It’s not rational, but in many cultures, people even condemn to touch infertile ones. They think their curse is contagious. You can freely buy a condom, no one will interested. An omega wants to buy a contraceptive, it’s a crime. Your future would be hard, John. When you’re registered with your Sherlock, and the anticipated child would never come, people start to ask questions. Your colleagues, friends, neighbors, the grocery you always shopping will ask the same thing. You’ll face with an exceptional pressure from society. The position you deserved in your job, your salary, you needed, all of them will be ignored. Even a corrupt civil servant will see more respect than you, since he has got snotty brats. You would be angry at sometimes. You would think you have been wronged, but you couldn’t do anything about it. Could you live like that, John? Could you control your anger forever?”

“I love Sherlock.” John said firmly. 

“You always bottle up your anger. You’ll outburst without thinking in one day. You’ll hurt him. Do you accept this reality?”

“Whose side are you on, mother?” John asked sarcastically.

“I am on the side of the truth. Think everything about what I said, John. Think hard. Don’t give him a false hope. No one deserves it.”

John drank the rest of his pint. Hillary insisted to pay the bill, John refused. He’d invited her. He was surprised when she retreated. It was a very rare occasion.

John paused when they’re outside. He turned to her, they looked each other silently. Mother and son. They were cut from the same cloth, yet they were so different. Proud mother and her brave son. Her hand lifted, touched his cheek. No hesitation. She was the daughter of first omega pilot in Royal Air Forces. She had her father’s strength, and she inherited inner core to her son.

“Love won’t conquer all, John.” She said finally.

“What will I do then, mother?” John didn’t move. Her hand on his cheek was warm. Hillary shook her head slightly.

“Remind yourself of your duty to be a good man and rehearse what man's nature demands, then do it straight and unswerving, or say what you best think right. Always, though, in kindness, integrity, and sincerity.” She paused, and glanced at John, waiting.

“Marcus Aurelius.” John breathed, remembering the quote. She nodded.

“Kindness, integrity, and sincerity. I can add one more thing son, and it’s bravery. I’ll make every effort to do for your mate’s happiness. I call you when I found something.” Hillary removed her hand, but John was still feeling the warmth on his skin. Even if you were 35, you would still need your omega parent’s acceptance and love, always need it until the death would tear them apart.

John’s heart was crying for a baby. A baby had never known the omega bearing him through months. He’d never smelled Sherlock’s scent, never heard his voice. His heart was broken behalf of an omega he’d only seen his baby twice. Sherlock hadn't had a chance to holding his son. He hadn’t seen his baby’s first steps. John lifted the collar of his jacket. It’s a mild day, but he’s freezing.

When Hillary wrapped her arms around his shoulders, John hesitated for a moment, then he buried his face into her neck, hugged her tightly. He didn’t care how long he stayed in her arms. He needed his mother, and she was there for him.

xxxxxxxxxx

The mild day turned it into a rainy one. John shook his head despairingly as he was standing at the door of their flat. No sign of Mrs. Hudson either. She had talked about a shopping trip with Mrs. Turner in the morning. John shivered, the silence in the flat was awkward. John always respected Sherlock’s privacy. He had not been in his bedroom without his permission, unless he and Mrs. Hudson looking for cigarettes. Sherlock usually didn’t lock his door before leaving. He was surprised when he saw Sherlock left it close. Sherlock Holmes was an ex-addict, there was always a risk to relapse. Sherlock had relapsed a few times in his life. The calling from the bedroom was clear, but John refused it. Smoking was a nasty habit, however, it’s usually better than drugs. John had this awful feeling that Sherlock had secretly kept drugs somewhere in the flat. He failed to find it. As long as Sherlock stayed clean, he wouldn’t think about on it. He hadn’t forgotten, but he had more focus on their life than Sherlock Holmes’s negative personality traits.

John adored Sherlock, but the silence gave John a heavenly moment of peace. John always was a loner, even in the army. His relationship with Sherlock Holmes could describe as a bit dysfunctional. John had forgiven him. He had forgiven him for their broken trust. The uncomfortable thing was John finally understood whatever he would do, he would always forgive him. This privilege was only for the detective. He also knew he couldn’t get hold his fake death over him forever. It wouldn’t be fair. He would forgive him and let it go, or he should have stayed with his alpha-partner. He had been wrong, but he’d thought friendship might have been better for them at the and. He tried to confess his feelings, even in his own mating day, and God damned Sherlock either deliberately misunderstood him or he didn’t want to reciprocate. Sherlock could be a magnet for trouble, but John was a charming magnet for socipaths too.

John lay on the sofa, closing his eyes. He was tired, a nap would be good. John sighed in pleasure, finally a little bit of peace. No bored consulting detectives shooting the walls, no meddling landladies, it’s a bliss.

John yawned as he opened his eyes. He was sleeping for hours. The air turned into dark gray. Sherlock rarely watched TV, if he watched, he loved trashy reality shows. He reached the remote control. He liked watching documentaries and films. Sherlock couldn’t sit still while they’re watching a film. His comments usually got John annoyed. John’s hand paused on the control. He frowned. A scheme and escape that big should have needed resources. Moran had only been a scientist, his family wasn’t rich, and being an omega rights activist couldn’t be considered a high salary job. John had a vague idea of genetic manipulation from medical school. A decade ago, establishing a genetic lab for own purposes wouldn’t have been a cheap operation. So where had the money come from? Who were the other members of Moran’s gang? Could you easily buy chemicals and equipments for a new lab without attracting people like Mycroft?

“Shit...” He murmured. How old was Mycroft twelve years ago? Mycroft was seven years older than Sherlock. He had been twenty five. Could he have had the same power when he was that young? If he hadn’t got, who had it?

He glanced at his mobile thoughtfully. How many rich supporters or members were in Blair’s group? Mother had mentioned activities closely danger to the extreme. What had they planned scaring Blair enough to leave his own organization? Terrorism was an expensive game. No one knew better than John. He bit his lower lip. He hated when people in his life lied to him.  It angered him. Hillary promised to help him, because she had already known important information about the past. He groaned in frustration. Sherlock had deliberately moved himself away from him in the last weeks. He didn’t tell him where he was going. Playing the unfair trust card, and his trademarked puppy looks. The manipulative bastard may have planned something dangerous, and he of course had been well aware John would go mad as soon as he heard it.

“Why is everything always my fault?” He muttered. He took his phone, and texted.

_“Where the fuck r u?”_

Sherlock didn’t reply back for five minutes as John’s anger simmered gradually.

_“In Norfolk. Why r u angry?”_

_“What the hell r u doing there?”_

_“Helping an old friend of mine. Name’s Victor Trevor. He asked me a favor.”_

_“Call me. Now.”_

_Stay calm his mind reminded. You have a strong ability to charm psychopaths. It’s normal for you._

He didn’t startle as his phone rang. His eyes narrowed. What was Sherlock playing? An old friend of mine, it was bullshit. John recognized the name.  “What are you doing there?”

“I presume your lunch with your mother didn’t go well.”

“We went for a pint. It wasn’t bad. Why are you avoiding my question?”

“I am not avoiding your question. It’s something about Victor’s personal life. I won’t betray his trust. He was my friend in university.”

“You are lying.”

“Sorry?”

“You are lying to me now. I know it. I feel it, and I don’t like it Sherlock. I gave my trust, my loyalty, my friendship to you, so don’t ruin everything. Not again. I can’t... no... I won’t stay in your life if you’d do something to ruin our lives. It would be fatal, Sherlock. Fatal to our relationship.”

Sherlock was speechless for a minute. “Is this an ultimatum, John?” He asked flatly.

“No. For God’s sake, no. It’s not an ultimatum, it’s a fact. Why are you there, Sherlock Holmes? What are you hiding from me? Hell... I am a fucking doctor, didn’t you think I could recognize his name?”

“Oh,” Sherlock could only be able to say. As a matter of fact that he didn’t think John knew his name. It was a mistake. “Are you worried for me?”

“I am always worried for you. That’s why I am exhausted all the time. Promise me, you won’t do anything to hurt yourself. There are no clauses, conditions or rules in my love for you, Sherlock. I hope you’ll finally believe my sincerity in one day. What I am afraid of is I won’t be there if you would push me away from you.”

“I hope you also would understand one day you are all I have, John. I am here because Victor thinks it would be better if I’d have regular check ups in every six months. It’s just a scheduled check up. Blood and urine tests, ultrasound, EKG. Boring. ”

“Why did you not take me with you?” John was surrendered, and he didn’t like it.

“John... I...”

“You are going to lie again. So please don’t bother yourself, OK?”

“I had been informed I would have been sick through my life, I was only nineteen. I’d also experienced the trauma of losing a child, losing the control over on my own body, losing my faith to my family. The only thing left was _me_ , John. Me alone in this world. I was alienated, estranged from everything. They’d discussed what precautions would have done, if Jack had ever found. I had been in the living room with them, and my parents had discussed about the adoption of my lost child. They didn’t like the idea of me as a teen parent. They should have been right since I was an addict, having more diagnosed disorders than any human being. I might have been toxic to my own child.”

“It’s not the answer of my question.” John said stubbornly even he was sad for him. “You never openly talk about yourself, you always suppose one tiny glimpse of emotion is enough for us. Why are you alone in Norfolk, Sherlock? Victor Trevor is a highly successful surgeon. What does your brilliant mind planning?”

“I don’t need his skills as a surgeon.” Sherlock replied dispassionately. “You deducted in a wrong way as usual.”

“Would you give me a chance to speak about it when the time comes?” The stretching silence between them was uncomfortable. “OK. We’ll talk tomorrow. I don’t want to fight with you.” His voice sounded more vicious than he intended. His right hand clenched on the fabric of the cushion.

“You are the only man I would ever give the right for speaking anything related to my body, and my mind. Good night, John Watson.” John blinked. He froze for a second, then he stood up.

 _It would not be wise to throw your only phone to the wall._ He was undecided which one was a good idea kicking the sofa or punching the wall. Kicking the sofa seemed less painful. He did it. He howled in pain, his big toe hit the wooden part of the sofa.

“I need a drink.” He murmured.

After a little search around Sherlock’s mess, John found the bottle. He went to the kitchen for a clean glass. He suddenly felt himself queasy. He usually used drinking to cope with stress, and he had an alcoholic sister. Harriet had accused their mother for her alcoholism. She could have been right, the Watson siblings went to the bars with her while they were so young. John hadn’t been of legal age when he tasted beer for the first time, he was younger than twelve, and nobody had been interested because they all were busy with their reform.

He shook his head. Sherlock would always break his heart, he would always do it without blinking an eye. Then, he would show one little second of real Sherlock, vulnerable and unable to talk about his feelings, John Watson would fall in love again.

He didn’t text or call him back. He didn’t drink either. He needed to think.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Great Hills, and Iceman had been known each other for a long time. She made herself a respectable enemy in years. While Mycroft Holmes was the rising star of intelligence service, Hillary Watson was the stubborn weed in government’s garden. Interesting twist of the fate forced them to meet on a common spot, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They were surrounded with fine bone china and silverware, staring each other calculatingly. Their meeting should be an elementary lecture for an introduction to the secret service.

“Are you sure?” Mycroft Holmes asked, frowning. He glanced at the zip disk, Hillary openly put it on the table.

“My source is reliable. She had kept the disk for years.”

“Why did she give you? Why now?”

“She is dying, Holmes. That disk would not protect her where she is going.”

“Do you have any belief, Hills?” There was a faint trace of curiosity in his question.

“Do you?”

Mycroft shook his head. “Did you read?”

“Yes. I read it, I took certain precautions so you are not going to like the consequences if I would be a victim of sudden assassination.” Her stare turned into a steel one. Mycroft sighed as he put his china back on the table.

“Do you feel an unfortunate impulse for using the data in this drive?” Hillary gave him a universally approved middle finger salute. The elder Holmes smiled pleasantly. He liked her, God have mercy on him, he really liked John Watson’s mother. Where the world was coming to?

“Then, I am sure your life expectancy is improved. Did you see your son?”

“No. We must decide how much of this information should be given to them.”

“May I ask why?”

“The disk has the exact copy of Moran’s last computer. I’ve found the name of the man behind the curtains. He’s unfortunately dead, an extremely crucial information disappeared with him.”

“Who’s he and what’s this crucial information?” Mycroft leaned forward to her. Hillary looked at him, uncomfortable.

“Moran’s operation was financed by Charles Augustus Magnussen, the man who murdered by your brother.”

His face paled. “Oh my God.”

“Sebastian Moran had died in Morocco a year later, after his escape. The cause of his death was unknown virus infection. Everyone of them had been died by the virus, including test subjects. Your brother is the only one survivor. I suppose Magnussen killed Moran and his men with the virus. Their operation wasn’t a profitable one for him anymore.”

“What had happened to the babies, Hills? Were there real babies?”

“Magnussen took them when they were six months old. Moran wrote in his journal, the information about their whereabouts stored in an Appledore vault.” Hillary coughed. Mycroft Holmes chagrined, wincing slightly. “Sherlock Holmes destroyed the vault. Appledore vaults didn’t exist, everything stored in Magnussen’s mind palace. Don’t look at me like that, young man. I started riots while you’re wearing a diaper.”

“I was thinking maybe we could eat dinner tonight, Great Hills. We could swap stories about starting riots and opression of them.”

Hillary laughed, the sound was warm and heartfelt. “I should warn you Mycroft Holmes, my mate is a vet, you don’t want to cross with a man winning his bread inserting his hand on an animal’s rectum.”

Mycroft smirked. “Dully noted.” He sobered. “As far as I understand, you have suggestions?”

“We should skim over the options. They are limited and unplesant. One option is we can’t tell him the truth. It would devastate your brother, but we can give him a grave to mourn.”

“Why did Magnussen not offer an information about the baby or trying to blackmail him? He could have easily taken Sherlock under his control. Which brings us back to where we started. The boy was dead, and information had lost its usefulness. We also had lost our chance to find the real locations of his grave or...?”

One blond eyebrow raised. “Or you could give them to adopt. Giving them to couples were rich, one of was an wealthy omega desperately wanted a child, an omega would love the baby and establish a bond with him. Omegas are usually seen as weak, and inadequate. However, there are a lot of financially comfortable omegas in the country. I am not sure how my son would react if he learned his Sherlock’s absurdly fine at financially. How could it be happen?”

“It’s not your business.” Mycrof said icily.

“I am asking because I am really stressed about John’s reaction. He is always sensitive about such things. It would cause a hazardous fight. A retired military officer can easily question the source of an ex-addict’s wealth. I am not threatining, Holmes. I know my son is a jerk, and his mate is a touchy bastard.”

Mycroft inhaled a long suffering breath. “The biggest problem about my brother is his ingenuity. He has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. Sherlock owes a few lucrative patents on nanotechnological products. He’s smart enough to rent his rights rather than sold. Most of them are related with military, and guess, who’s the most interested buyer?”

“Government.” Hillary snickered. “He is good, isn’t he? Did he not give you a family discount?”

“When he has a chance to rip off my annual budget, never. Do go on, I’d like to hear your adoption theory.”

“The only thing a blackmailer like Magnussen would have to do is wait for the proper day. How much would you pay for your child’s life? What would you do for your child? What my son would do for his mate’s child, even if he isn’t from his gene pool? How many rich couples were fitting this profile a decade ago?”

“They could be from anywhere in the world. We can not be able to find any information or we can be able to find him. Then, what would we do? Should we take him from his only family he knows? What kind of life he would have with Sherlock? What if the boy is happy, and healthy?”

“All we have is speculations. We don’t know what really had happened to them. If babies adopted, you should consider the families privacy, the children’s future, and their health. You should also consider your brother’s mental and physical health. John loves him, and I love my son. I don’t care whether you love your brother or not. So there is my second suggestion, test the theory, find fitting family profiles, search them.”

“Then?”

“If they’re adopted babies, we could considered a few options. First, tell Sherlock and John babies died when they’re six months old, give them a fake location of a grave, never mentioned Magnussen or we could tell them babies were death, and no one knows about their graves.”

“Sherlock’s mind doesn’t work like other human beings. He could demand to exhume the bones, and DNA test.”

“Good. I appreciate that kind of neuronal activity.”

“I’ll ask just out of curiosity what would you do?”

“Exhume the bones, run DNA test, torture the liar until they give me the right information. The other one is dependent on the test of adoption theory. True; tell them everything, and wait for their decision or never tell them, use fake/unknown location of a grave. False; use fake or unknown location of a grave.”

“You suggest a lot of options, Hills.” Mycroft warned.

“I’ll give you 48 hours, Holmes. It’s enough for a man has resources like you. I am not going to John and tell him whatever I’ve found during forty eight hours. I am serious Mycroft Holmes, solve it. I won’t be understanding. There are still people in this country remembering the Second World War omega orphans and our country’s adoption program disaster. I’ll make such a fuss, it will remembered for centuries.” Hillary watched him with a firm gaze.

“It wasn’t the finest hour of the government.” Mycroft said gruffly. “Even though these things are not comparable, I’ll do what I can.”

“EFE hosts a charity organization in this weekend, you’re invited.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Don’t arrest any of my donators before donating generous money.”

“I don’t do leg works.”

“Dully noted.” Hillary grinned.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dr. Victor Trevor leaned back to his desk, crossing his arms on his chest. Sherlock was sitting on a leather armchair in front of him. Trevor’s office smelled like money. The decoration was subtle but tastefully done. He hadn’t changed so much. He was still the ever charming young man who had been the first lover of Sherlock Holmes. While they’re freshmen, they’re quite close. They were lovers or something close to it. They had hadn’t sex, only shared a few kisses. Back in days, Sherlock had thought he could have mated with him. After his kidnapping and losing sixteen months, he’d found Victor moved forward in his life. They were slowly drifted apart, but Victor was generous to offer his hand for help in years.

Sherlock was nervous, but it’s not about his test results. John didn’t call him after their argument. Total silence for 14 hours. It scared Sherlock. He wasn’t sure he should call or not. Sentiment was not his area.

“Real Time PCR shows insignifant increasing in your viral load. I would like to test it again in fifteen days to be sure.” Sherlock nodded silently. “EKG is normal, tests for your chronic inflammation shows it’s still in there. According to your blood test you are slightly anemic due to iron deficiency so I’ll prescribe iron supplements for you. Hormon levels are bit raised, but in reference values.”

“What’s wrong Victor?” Sherlock shifted restlessly.

“Urine tests say you have a mild urinary infection. It’s the most likely the reason of few red blood cells in your urine sample. Liver enzymes normal except GGT, it’s still high, possible cause is the heat suppressants you are using. Drug screen came negative, and I heartily congratulate you for it. I am not sure something is wrong or not, Sherlock. Several of your test values are insignificantly increasing or decreasing. It’s not meaningful. You said you had pain in lower abdomen, feeling tired, dizziness, nausea, burning sensation when you urinate. They all can be merely related with anemia, urinary tract infection, chronic inflammation of your reproductive organs or their combinations. I don’t know what is going in your body, but I don’t like it. Can you stay in the clinic few more days for keeping you under observation?”

Sherlock shook his head vehemently. “No. Prescribe me antibiotics and painkillers proper for a reformed junkie. I promise, I’ll come here fifteen days later, I don’t want to stay.”

“Sherlock... After all those years later, we finally established a kind of friendship. Do you agree?”

“Yes... I guess...” He was impatient. He only wanted to go back to Baker Street, and see his John.

“Stress can also affect your body and your condition. You didn’t talk about it, but you’re clearly in emotional stress. You are fidgeting, you didn’t sleep last night. You are checking your phone in every two minutes, and you didn’t eye contact with me since you came here.”

“I am fine.” He said calmly, he placed his hands on the sides of the armchair. His hands were sweaty, the dull headache had started again.

“No, you are not.” Victor said steadily. “I am an alpha Sherlock. My nose...” He tapped his nose with his finger. “has the perfect olfactory senses. You smell differently. It’s not the scene of claim, bond or heat, but your smell screams you are covered with a scent of a powerful alpha.”

“Powerful?” Sherlock frowned.

“His scent imprints on you. It’s very hard to imprint my scent on an omega without complete bonding or a claiming. Whoever he’s Sherlock... his mind, his heart, his will, his body, he dedicated himself to you. It’s not possession, I know you hate it, it’s... how could I describe? He has darkness, and also light. His scent is calming, yet passionate. It warns every alpha around you, don’t touch him or I kill you. He can do it. I feel nervous whenever I smell it. He adores you, my old friend. He loves you so fiercely, so painfully, so intensely, he doesn’t need to claim you, his scent naturally imprints on you.  I can’t do that Sherlock. I can’t enough love to someone that much. None of the regular alphas can do it.”

“I am not anyone’s property to mark!” Sherlock stood up in anger. “He did... he did it without my permission!” He was shaking. John, his John. His understanding, reckless, easy-going John did it sinisterly. Never asked. Never discussed.

Victor snapped in equal anger. “Do you really think an omega accept an alpha’s scent without claiming, Sherlock? You must love him as deeply, intensely, madly as him. Your existence accept his scent without proper claiming and bonding. Do you love him, Sherlock? Please be honest to your doctor.”

“I...” Sherlock looked around the room desperately. “I lost something twelve years ago, I don’t know what is. It’s not only a child,” Sherlock had been honest to the root to his doctor when he started to see him. “I am a sociopath, high functional, but sociopath, I can’t feel, I am not interested in the other’s emotions. I can’t give him what he wants.”

“If you can’t feel, then why are you so sad about it?”

“I don’t know.” Sherlock said nervously.

“You can feel because you love him. Before that man, you didn’t care about your health. You’d found me five years ago after years in silence. You want to remain healthy because you love him. You want to live because you care him. Being healthy and whole is your declaration of love, Sherlock. Stay here, I can find a quiet place in town.”

“We argued on the phone last night. He didn’t call me back.”

“Then call him, tell him there are some glitches in your results, and you have to stay here. He would be here in a record time to protect you.”

“How do you know?” Sherlock seemed confused.

“If I were a man like him, I would be here as soon as possible. I am envied of him.”

“Why?”

“I was stupid, Sherlock. I must have stayed, and mated with you. I wish I could have loved you more, but I hadn’t and I’d lost my chance. You don’t know how you are beautiful and brilliant, do you my old friend?” Sherlock blushed. “Trust your man, Sherlock and call him.”

Victor left him alone. Sherlock began to wonder for the first time what his life would have become if John Watson wasn’t in his life. He was mild-mannered, and normal, yet he had so many flaws. So many personality flaws, an omega could instantly refuse him. Sherlock loved him, since he’d never wanted a traditional relationship. He loved him because John Watson so incredibly different alpha with such flaws. Sherlock finally saw John couldn’t love an ordinary omega.

He was hesitant at first, then he pushed the buttons. He would call him until he would take an answer. He needed his answer.

“What?” John snapped sleepily.

It’s almost afternoon and he’s sleeping, his mind warned Sherlock. It’s not a good sign. “I have to stay here, John. Victor said, my test results have some problems.”

John pulled himself from the bed. He rubbed his neck unconsciously. “Problems?”

“They’re not significant, but Victor is little worried.”

“I’ll be there in two hours,” John said curtly. He’d already gotten off the bed, looking for his clothes.

“John... if... if I am going to sick... I don’t want my parents or Mycroft has any rights on my condition.”

“I’ll be there as quick as possible. Damn you idiot. I love you, do you hear me? I wish I knew why I loved you so much you infuriating git.”

xxxxxxxx

John reached Norfolk in two hours. Sherlock didn’t answer his calls so he directly went to the clinic. Dr. Victor Trevor met him. The old friend was a charming man, taller than John, dark auburn hair with hazel eyes. Of course, he should be a handsome man or how John Watson could suffer from jealousy. However, Victor approached him nicely. His voice was soft, and calming. John had finally found himself in his office, sitting in a leather chair, and drinking tea. Victor was a good listener, and he gave his all attention to John’s words.  
“No one could follow his logic, maybe his cold-blooded brother could.” Victor’s eyebrows raised. “Can you imagine I am scared when he’s polite? Yes, whenever the daft git being polite without a reason, I am scared to death because I know normal has never been the definition of him. People think he’s moody, childish, manipulative... he doesn’t help his case declaring I am high functioning sociopath either, but he isn’t a person like that.” John paused as he was breathless.

“How’s he like, Dr. Watson?” Victor asked, tapping his finger on the table.

  
“Sherlock has issues, I know it. I am not a delusional lovesick puppy. Sherlock needs constant approval of his achievements, he needs to know he does something valuable, and important. His self esteem is low, even if every other person in the earth thinks he’s arrogant, and highly confident. His family, his friends, his god damned brother assume he despises being an omega. No, he is confused Dr. Trevor. He is afraid, it’s so ordinary emotion and nobody understands. He just doesn’t really know how he copes what happened in the past. He misses his child, while he declares he’s a sociopath continually. It’s an armor, armor for the meddling, and unnecessarily curious individuals around him...” John seemed surprised against his monologue. He stopped, licking his lips nervously.

Victor smiled. “Please, go on. I can assure you we are not so different about him except the mating part. What’s his problem? Tell me.”

  
John sighed. He wanted to hate his handsome colleague, but he’d already liked him. He was easy-going, and affable man. John hated the feeling as if he’s in a therapy session, however, Trevor did it so elegantly he couldn’t refuse the offer.

  
“He’s a good man. I mean it. His character is deeply complex, his personality has several flaws...” He suddenly smashed his fist on the armrest of the chair in anger. Victor winced slightly. “Hell... us all.. his family, friends... including me, we all want to protect him, want to wrap him in a cocoon, but protect against what? His unfortunate tendency of self-destruction? His incompetency for living alone? Which one of us is actually perfect? I am not...” John took a deep breath. “He didn’t allow to mourn. We did not allow him to mourn for his child. We wanted to protect him so much that we didn’t even give him a grave, we didn’t allow him to cry. Then we all decided he was despised being an omega. I would despise anything about my sexuality if I wasn’t allowed to mourn for my own child because of it! I would despise it if I were only define by my sexuality while I am fucking brilliant.”

  
“You really love him. Do you?” Victor said in awe.

  
John Watson was normal looking, short, mild-mannered bloke. When you looked at him, you didn’t think he was dangerous, or very protective of people he loved. He wasn’t the man he could have pictured for Sherlock. He looked so average... average height, average weight, stocky, sandy blond hair, dark blue eyes, handsome but not handsome you could see in magazines, he was handsome as your mother would think he’s good for your niece, but not her daughter.  
Victor little relaxed. He was worrying about Sherlock for a long time, he also worrying of his brother, Mycroft. Sherlock told his family had been assumed he had deleted the memories of kidnapping and child. Victor wasn’t so sure of it. He knew, although he hadn’t an evidence, someone was watching him, tracing and hacking his files, but the files only about Sherlock. Victor sensed the perpetrator was Mycroft Holmes instinctively. The elder Holmes might have been realized Sherlock remembered everything long time ago. He was worried for Sherlock’s safety, and his mental health. He didn’t know how to protect him or who would he trust to protect Sherlock. He still had a soft spot for blue-gray eyes. He had never told, but Sherlock Holmes was the first omega he had ever kissed. Victor had been sad when they’re apart, but he wasn’t the man who loved Sherlock Holmes unconditionally.

  
John ran his fingers through his hair. “God have mercy on me, yes, I love him... so much. Sorry for the outburst. I was known for my temper in the army.” He gave a weak smile.

  
“None taken, Dr. Watson. You’re his next-of-kin, but you are not his bonded mate. Sherlock gave me a signed papers for his permission to share anything about his health condition. Would you like to see the test results?”

  
John nodded as Victor extended the thick file. Dr. Watson carefully read reports. Dr. Trevor was a meticulous man. Each report, each diagnostic scan, blood and urine results noted by date with his personal observations on Sherlock’s health, and the patient’s treatments. John frowned.

  
“His cholesterol level is high. The results are high for the every test in five years. Why is his cholesterol high? He doesn’t even eat regularly, but he’s active for his age. He has been clean for a long time, no smoking, no excessive drinking. I always suspect he has an undiagnosed eating disorder, but...” He finally shrugged.

  
Victor smiled brightly. John Watson was also a good doctor with a keen eye. “Cholesterol high, but LDL level is in the range. I didn’t see any cardiovascular problem since he’s my patient. I have a theory, would you like to hear?”

  
“I’d like to hear it.”

  
“First of all, we are in a reproduction clinic, Dr. Watson. Reproduction is the most lucrative medicinal field in this country. Do you always want to be a surgeon?”  
“Yes.” His answer was curt, but his dark blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

  
“I didn’t. I had thought pre-clinic fields were clean and cushy. I’d wanted to be an academic. I met Sherlock on the first day of the MED school. I was interested reproduction area because of him. I liked him while he had the social skills of an urchin. He was odd, and incapable of his mouth shut.” John snorted. “We had gotten close, you could have called us boyfriends. Before you strangle me, I should warn you we had never had sex. Sherlock has never been in a kind of activity.”

  
John leaned back, bemused. “Oh, shit.” He murmured.

  
“You’re right on he is confused. John... may I call you John?” John nodded silently. “Thank you. Sherlock doesn’t know how he can start something sexual with you, because he didn’t have any experience with sex or heat. He only went to heat in their hands, they used artificial insemination when he was under the influence of heavy mind-altering drugs. When he gained his consciousness, he was carrying. After that, he emotionally dissected himself from the world.”

  
“Why didn’t he tell me?” John bit his lower lip. Why didn’t you tell me, Sherlock?

  
“How could he tell you? When he wanted to look perfect for the man whom he’d ever liked intimately? We’d never talked until he’d met you, John. He’d found me five years ago, before he didn’t care about his health, or his problems. He wanted to be healthy for you. It was a painful process, but we talked about on his condition, and its roots.”

  
John threw his head back. “It’s normal I think.” Was he disappointed? Perhaps, nothing was so precise with Sherlock Holmes.

  
“While he’s non-stop talking about his flatmate, John.” John raised his head, and stared at Victor Trevor. “John was not boring. John liked his coffee without sugar. John liked those rubbish Bond movies. John shared my loneliness. He has only excited when he talked about you. He also wanted to know how he had a sexual relationship without the advantage of heat.”

  
John’s cheeks turned into apple red. “Did you answer him?”

  
“I gave him some leaflets. You should be careful John. It’s not easy for him without heat. Heat is simple, he’s ready for the alpha mate without thinking, but he doesn’t have this advantage. He would be aware of everything, and no preparation in advance. You could hurt him.” John thought he was burning, but he didn’t leave the room. He was ashamed, yet he needed to know, he would never hurt Sherlock.

  
“Do you... do you have any leaflets for me?”

  
“I’ll give you. May I suggest that our prep course? You are not unique John, there are other alphas in the world their mates suffering the same condition naturally.”  
John couldn’t imagine himself in a classroom where he was discussing the sexual problems in his mating as an alpha. It wasn’t for him, however, he could try for Sherlock, and he would do it.

  
“I can try.”

  
“Perfect. Are you a health nut, John?”

  
“No, I am not.” John laughed. Victor was surely not a genius like Sherlock, but he had the same annoying habit. There was no way to track their thinking sequence.  
“It’s good. Do you think the egg is bad for health?

  
“What? No, as long as you don’t eat more than one in a day.”

  
“So what is the most chided sterol in egg?”

  
John frowned, then the penny dropped. “Cholesterol, of course. Our body needs cholesterol for the production of sex hormones and its vital for oestrus cyclus, and ovulation. Sherlock’s body doesn’t use all of the produced cholesterol since he is using heat suppressants. What do you think?”

  
“I suppose the heat suppressants are the reason of the elevated cholesterol level. I think his illness has a very simple explanation, whether relevant to high cholesterol level or not. It’s not related to the virus. The ultrasound of his lower abdomen didn’t show, and I plan to carry out an MRI scan. He complains back pains, belly pain, nausea after particular foods.”

  
John suddenly laughed. He was relieved. It’s an normal illness with a quick solution. “Oh dear, he’ll be disappointed. He won’t be like it when he hears his conditions is something so ordinary. A gallbladder stone?”

  
“I guess so.” Victor smiled. “If the MRI scan confirms it, I suggest laparoscopy. It’s easy, and he won’t be in the hospital more than a day, so there will be no need to worry about his murder by an annoying nurse. Before the surgery, I prescribe him antibiotics to clean urinary tract infection. You should ensure that he takes the pills regularly.”

  
“Where is he? Is he in the hospital?”

  
“He didn’t want to stay. He’s in a B & B half a kilometer away. I know the owners, their customers are generally patients or relatives. It’s a nice place. I scheduled an MRI at tomorrow, 11.30 am. Is it OK?”

  
“No problem. What about the viral infection?”

  
“Still in his body. His viral load slightly increased, but I think it’s related to bacterial infection. We tried antiretrovirals few years ago, but it didn’t work. He used to live with it. You unfortunately will use to live with it. However, pharmacology is a fast moving area. I heard about a novel trial drug with a very promising results. It would be in the market in five years. We should focus on the present day, Dr. Watson. I’ll check the viral load until returning to old figures.”

  
“Does it shorten his life expectancy?” John hated the question.

  
“It’s clear that it affects his life quality, but I don’t think it’ll shorten his life, if he would have a healthy life style.”

  
“What healthy life style?” John snorted.

  
“Now, we can talk about your future job.” Victor said sweetly.

  
xxxxxxxxxx  
The B & B, Victor suggested was a quiet place. It had ten rooms, and most of them were occupied. Sherlock had neither liked or disliked his room. It was a kind of spartan. A queen sized bed, two bedside tables with antique lamps on it, a wardrobe, and a dresser. Interestingly, there was no TV in the room, and Sherlock was grateful for it. The young girl behind the desk informed him they had free wi-fi in the hotel. Sherlock told he was going to share his room with Dr. John Watson. The girl had shrugged. She’d looked uninterested. It seemed like a peaceful place until Mycroft called him, and their conversation wasn’t a good one when Mycroft asked about his most important secret.

  
“How do you know?” Sherlock asked in shock. Mycroft’s call was surprising.

  
“I am your brother, I know everything about you.”

  
“You know nothing about me, Mycroft.” Sherlock warned.

  
“Sherlock, I admire it since you could keep it as a secret for years, you fooled your family. Well done. Congratulations. Why are you still so resentful?”

  
“Resentful! Have you ever thought, just a fraction of a second, I didn’t want to be protected?”

  
“No.” Mycroft said shortly. “We, your family, did it because we love you.”

  
“Oh, I would hardly call it a familial love.” Sherlock snorted. “I wasn’t sure about my family’s love when you were discussing mine and my missing son’s future. Did you really think I would be happy in a mental clinic or a rehab center? Don’t love me, just don’t.”  
“You’re an addict, God’s sake, a cocain addict, already gone to the rehab before Moran. You heavily drugged during 16 months, and you relapsed twice after that with a nervous breakdown scared us to the hell. You’re not completely yourself for two years. You couldn’t keep him, they didn’t allow you, even if I would make an effort for your sake, my power was limited in these days.”  
“You know what I wonder? Why did everyone think I would be a bad parent? You didn’t find a clue in years. My own family still think I won’t be a good parent for my child. What are you afraid to tell me, Mycroft?”  
“Nothing.” The reply was too soft to Sherlock’s ears. Sherlock was tensed. Brother was lying. Not good. It always wasn’t good when Mycroft failed to lie.  
“Mycroft... Do you still believe I wouldn’t be a good omega-parent? I am clean.” Sherlock whispered.  
“You’re relapsed.” Mycroft reminded coldly. “Don’t forget what happened to end.”  
“It’s for a case!”  
“Sherlock, do you honestly believe you could be a father? You are selfish, self-centered, but you also are unbelievably insecure. Could you have ever loved him? Are you even capable? I am not. You might have succeeded to mimic something close to love. Mimicking, brother mine. Don’t you think your child eventually would feel it?”  
“Thank you so much for your lovely opinions on me.” Sherlock said dryly. “Something happened. Something changed. What?”  
“Don’t make your life harder than this, Sherlock. Nothing is going on.” Mycroft ended their call.  
His mind screamed. _Mycroft knows. Mycroft knows._ How? He knew Sherlock had faked the deletion, but he never challenged. Sentiment? Sherlock shuddered. Who else could know? Mummy? It was the most sensitive subject in Holmes family. No one talked about it. Mycroft protected him? He always said he had concerns about him. But, how? How could he know?  
Mycroft sounded embarrassed. It’s not normal. Mycroft never felt embarrassment. Something had changed. Sherlock was sure of it. He left Baker Street more than 24 hours ago. What the hell could have happened in a day after years of silence? Sherlock stopped cold. John’s lunch with his mother. He closed his eyes.  
“Hell.” He murmured.  
John went to drink with Great Hills. The rebel leader of omega rights. Did the government and rebel leader know each other? He had no sufficient data on it. The good hearted doctor asked for mom’s help? Sure. This was John Watson, of course he asked for help. The rebel accepted? Most probably since she wanted to fix her relationship with her son. Hope for a reconciliation. Sentiments. Then where the rebel would go? The government? It’s not likely if they didn’t know each other before. So they had known each other for a long time. Mycroft drained, even his malicious tone in his voice sounded fake to Sherlock’s ears.  
Sherlock sat on the bed slowly. He was cold. The rebellious mom of goodhearted doctor should have talked. Perhaps threatened the government. A conversation that Mycroft had understood Sherlock never deleted Jack from his mind.  
“What have you done, John?” Sherlock asked himself tiredly.  
He wasn’t the confused, heartbroken young man anymore. He could fight. He could fight for his freedom. No one could lock him in a mental facility. Sherlock looked around the room. The decoration was minimal. It had a soothing effect on his bitter thoughts. John was coming, and he didn’t even feel anger towards him. His intention had been good, but the road to hell paved with good intentions.  
Sherlock lay on the bed, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. Mycroft didn’t say anything about a mental facility. Mycroft didn’t want to lock him in an asylum? There weren’t any frantic calls from their mother in last 24 hours. So the dearest elder brother didn’t tell her. It’s interesting. Why did he hide from their mother? For future blackmails? A switch in his brain suddenly flicked. What if Great Hills had found something, and brought to Mycroft? An evidence. An evidence about his son’s fate.  
Mycroft seemed weary, he tried to convince Sherlock would be an inadequate father. Sherlock covered his face with his hands. A tiny sob rushed from his mouth. They should have found, the government and the rebel, an evidence his Jack was dead. Should he be happy? His suspicion confirmed at last. Should he be upset? He had lost his child forever. How could he live if he didn’t know the right emotion?  
_All lives end.  
All hearts are broken.  
Caring is not an advantage.  
_ He felt so tired. Happy endings were for the others. Always.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
“I’ve found him, Hills.” Mycroft said, his voice was distant and neutral. It was 36 hours after Hillary’s ultimatum Mycroft called her. He was quick.  
“Where? Did you find other babies?”  
“Two boy, and a girl. One of the boy and the girl are happy in their families. Since their real parents and Magnussen were dead, I don’t think I’ll reveal the children’s names. Why didn’t you tell me the name of the other parent?”  
“It’s not my right to tell, Holmes. I was shocked, and I presume you were shocked when you read it. Everyone thought Moran had wanted to create a reproductive omega-omega pairs. He’d instead of used randomly collected alpha sperms. Is it fate?”  
“There is no fate, Hills.”  
“You are wrong. Fate is a capricous bitch. Luck is her hardly useful sister. Don’t question yourself Mycroft Holmes, you were a good brother.”  
“I should thank you for it, Hills. Sherlock’s son was adopted by Henry and Claire Sommerset, Claire was an omega and, she couldn’t bear a child. Henry, her alpha adored his mate, he gained a fortune from his IT business. They loved their baby, however, Henry and Claire died in a car accident when the boy was eleven months old. The wreck of their car had found three days later, the car stuck in a cliff. There was no trace of a baby. The officers assumed the baby was taken by wildlife and killed. Perhaps, you are right about fate. A young sergeant named Greg Lestrade didn’t believe it’s an unfortunate accident.”  
“Who?”  
“Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, now. He is a friend of my brother, and your son. Sergeant Lestrade digged it, and he finally proved it was a murder. Henry and Claire had murdered by Henry’s uncle. He tried to find the baby, he had failed. The baby’s fate is a cold case. Lestrade never closed it.”  
“Until now I suppose. Where is he?”  
“In an orphanage. His full name is William Scott Rutherford. He has been living in Future Happiness orphanage for eleven years.”  
“Fuck.” Hillary muttered.  
xxxxxxxxxx  
The boy was taller than his age group, he was as thin as a weed. He had an astonishing pair of pale gray blue eyes, his dark chestnut colored hair was long, curled around his face. Perfect cheekbones, a very prominent nose and thin lips. Hillary saw what she should have seen. The boy was the heartbreaking combination of the two men who were brave, vulnerable and proud. According to records, Scott had been found crying in a garden of a church with a note written on it his name was William Scott. He was not older than a year. The reverend had immediately informed the Child Service. Scott had taken by officials from the service, tested, and it revealed he was an alpha. An alpha orphan always would be a problem. Child Service didn’t like to tackle with them. They may have been right, it was usually a recipe for disaster. Puberty, raging hormones, an alpha surrounded with adolescent omegas and betas. Gender specific orphanages had not been welcomed by the public at first. When the advantages and disadvantages had evaluated, the government started to subsidize the private orphanages for omegas. Hillary’s organization, EFE had two orphanages in London. One for the omegas and other was for alphas and betas. The officials from Child Service had contacted to EFE eleven years ago, and Scott had placed in Future Happiness orphanage.  
He had been living there for eleven years. He had good marks in school, very good at science and math. His teachers noted he had struggled with social relationships, he was extraordinarily intelligent, highly self controlled young man, but he had difficulty in understanding the others’ feelings. Scott could be able to interact children in the orphanage if he forced himself to do it, but he didn’t call any of them as his friend. He had an obsessive interest for knowledge, especially anything related to maritime. He usually went to the library for reading while the others went to play because Scott wanted to be a naval officer. The school counselor, and psychiatrist’s diagnosis were high functioning Asperger with schizoid personality disorder.  
Heredity was a strange thing.  
Hillary looked intensely into the boy’s eyes. He stared at her back, challenging. Hillary gave the devil his due, he had balls. He wasn’t afraid of her.  
“Do you know me, Mr. Rutherford?” The officials had been known neither his birth-omega’s name, nor the alpha parent, so they had given the reverend’s surname who had found him.  
“Yes, madam. You’re the director of EFE, the non-governmental organization owns our orphanage.”  
“Good. Now, sit down Mr. Rutherford. I’d like to speak with you.”  
Scott didn’t ask why, he sat down on the chair. He looked a little intimidated, but it’s normal. He licked his lower lip nervously.  
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called your presence.” Scott nodded. “What do you plan for your future, Mr. Rutherford? You must know you can stay in orphanage until you’re eighteen. I have been working on to extend the age staying at the orphanage. However, bureaucracy tries to kill me.”  
Scott giggled for a moment, then he collected himself. Hillary smiled. “I plan to join navy, Madam. I want to be a naval officer.”  
“Don’t call me, Madam, you can call me Mrs. Watson, or Hills. It seems a good plan to me. Are you alright in Future Happiness, Scott?”  
“I am fine, Mrs. Watson.”  
Hilary didn’t know how she explained what she had found. She couldn’t find an elegant way, she finally decided to be thorough.  
“Scott... I called you because I may have found your parents.” Hillary said slowly. Shock, disbelief, anger contorted to the boy’s face. He raised from the chair as Hillary stopped him with a hand gesture. “Don’t... You should listen to me.”  
While Hillary was telling the story about Moran, experiments, Scott’s parents, how his omega parent suffered throughout the years, Scott silently listened. He looked withdrawn, but his eyes shone with curiosity.  
“Does he really not know I am alive?” He asked, his voice was shaking.  
“He had believed you’re dead.”  
“And the other one? My alpha parent?”  
“He didn’t even know his sperm had been used in an experiment.”  
Scott’s cheeks little blushed against the blunt words. “How did he not know?”  
“Three soldier came to London twelve years ago, they’re in their R&R. They decided to have fun. They went to a club suggested by a friend, drinking, flirting with girls, and finally they went to a house, one of those girls living in. When they woke up in the noon in the next day, they had been suffering from the worst hangover they had ever experienced. They didn’t realize their sperms collected.”  
Scott’s curiosity piqued. “Is he still in army?”  
“No, Scott. He had honorably discharged five years ago, wounded in action. He was an army doctor. Do you want to meet him?”  
“I... Why do I not meet my omega parent first?”  
“Because...” Hillary looked at the boy’s eyes, so vivid, so spectacularly alive. “That soldier was my son. I want you to meet him. You look like your omega parent so much, and we need a plan for your first meeting.”  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
The first meeting had been a bit tensed. John didn’t want to leave Sherlock, and William Scott refused to leave London. Sherlock and John didn’t talk each other since they fought about John and his good intentions.  
_“You did it. You, and your fucking moral rules. You told your mother, didn’t you? You asked her help!”  
“Yes. I told her, and I don’t understand why you’re...”  
“Don’t understand? Your mother went Mycroft. Mycroft knows! How could he know? Because your mother went him. Would you be happy when they throw me in an asylum?”  
“What’s wrong with you? Why do you think mom go to him? She dosn’t even know him!”  
“Oh, she knows him very much, Dr. John Watson. Wait and see.”  
_ Sherlock was right. Hills had finally found a meeting point. John Watson and his son had met in Traders. He was still in shock since he’d learned his adventure in twelve years ago resulted with a baby, and he didn’t know how he would explain all of it to Sherlock. Fortunately, John and Scott had immediately liked each other.  
Victor called him while he was speaking with his son. They’re in the third day of antibiotics, but Sherlock didn’t feel himself good. He vomited after lunch and he complained heavy pain in his back and chest. He’d suggested a urgent operation.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
“Sherlock, I brought you a guest.” John was smiling. He was with a young boy, The boy was 12 years old utmost. Dark haired, pale gray-blue eyes. He seemed nervous.  
The effect of anethesia passed, but Sherlock still felt little bit confused. A gallbladder stone? How funny was it? Under John’s hard dictatorship he had eaten, swallowed the antibiotics, drunk lots of fluids for days without talking to each other, he was ready to go in an operation. He remembered John kissed him, before he went to sleep. He kissed his forehead. It was nice even if they’re angry. They told him it was an easy operation. However, he still had pain in his abdomen. He tried to raised himself, leaning back to the pillows.  
“Who’s he?” Oh God, his voice slurred.  
John pushed the boy kindly. “You’re right about my mother. This is William Scott. He wants to be a navy officer. I suppose we’d let him if you would not nagging too much.”  
“What?” Sherlock blinked. Why was he still in pain?  
“Meet your son, Sherlock. William Scott. Great Hills managed to found him. Would you want to say hello?”  
The time froze. Universe froze as Sherlock realized John’s words. His son. His beautiful baby grown into a beautiful lad. John hold the boy’s hand and dragged with him.  
“I...” Sherlock couldn’t talk, the boy with heterochromatic eyes couldn’t make a sound.  
“There’s only way to know, Sherlock...Scott...” John helped Scott to sitting on the bed. Sherlock understood, but his mind refused it. His boy had been dead. It should be. There was no happy endings for him. Only way to know... An omega could forget everything, but he couldn’t forget one thing in his life. It was their baby’s scent, and a child never forgot their omega parent’s scent. Scott leaned forward to smell him, his nose touched Sherlock’s neck. His heart skipped a beat. The scent of summer filled his nose, apples, honey, his baby’s smell. His eyes widened. His arms wrapped around Scott’s shoulders without realizing. Tears began to flow, burrying his nose into boy’s hair.  
“My baby...” He choked as thin arms curled in his chest.  
“Sherlock...we should talk.” John said hesitantly.  
xxxxxxxxxx  
Scott curled on Sherlock’s body, his head rested on his chest, he was sleeping for hours. Sherlock’s fingers waved into his soft hairs. He looked tired, and he had pain. Doctors thought laparoscopy was an easy, and painless operation, they should ask the patients. His face was pale, but he was happy. He finally had met with his son. They lost almost twelve years, he’s a grown up now. However, it’s the beginning, they could mend all of those years. Sherlock should use to his name, William Scott other than Jack. He could do it, but not before he could digest the information about his boy’s alpha parent. He didn’t believe in fate, and fate had given him a magnificient gift. He wouldn’t refuse it, no never would refuse it. He smiled suddenly.  
“We’re in hospital. He couldn’t stay here, Sherlock.” John said softly. It was a miracle, his son and his mate. His treasures. They were safe and sound, they were with him even if they’re in hospital. John sat on the side of the bed, placing his hand on Scott’s back.  
“I don’t want him to go.” Sherlock murmured. John leaned forward to kiss his lips. Sherlock sighed in pleasure.  
“He can stay with my parents tonight. Sherlock...I am not sure about the influence of my mom. She always wants an heir. He’s too young. He already looks at her with shining eyes.”  
John brushed off a naughty lock from his forehead. Sherlock laughed in a low voice, “Don’t forget the government uncle. Wait until Mycroft meets him. I presume they are going into a war for our boy’s attention.”  
“I am not afraid of them.” John smiled.  
“You should be.” His beautifully, sinfully sensous lips curved into a lopsided grin. “Are we going into a war for his attention? Are we still angry with each other?”  
“I don’t think so.” John replied. “I am not an idiot. I’ve finally found my mate, and my son. I’ll spoil them.”  
Sherlock shifted slightly. His hand still was ruffling Scott’s hair, and John’s hand still rested his back. “Really? Then, spoil us soldier.”  
“How?”  
“Find a spare cot for our son, I want him here. I'm not letting him out of my sight again.”  
John laughed. “I’m in trouble, am I?”  
“Big trouble, Captain Watson.” They’re startled as Scott moved, he turned into his right side, but he didn’t wake up.  
“I love you, you know, do you?”  
“Yes, I know. The spare cot, Captain.”  
John sighed.  
His future life would be a long, long, but adventerous and happy one with them.  
**2 weeks later,  
** “John... how can we.. how can we have... our son is sleeping at the next door.”  
“We should find a way. What do you think? My parents must have found their way. Your parents must have found their way. Wait... what if they had never had sex after children?” The thought was horrifying. Sherlock and John looked at each other.  
“Call your mother, and ask.”  
“What? Are you mad? I never call my mom for asking it. Call your mother!”  
“John... would you really think I could ask my mother something like that?”  
“I just can’t...”  
“We have been married and mated for two weeks, and I am still virgin. Oh God, I will die as a virgin.”  
“Calm down. Oh, shit. Please calm down, don’t hyperventilate. It’s OK. I’ll call her.”  
**Two minutes later.  
** “What did she say?”  
“We must wait until he’s going to school. I hate you, Sherlock. I hate you. Now, I know what my parents were doing when we’re in school.”  
“His first class at eight. It’s seven o’clock. Make the breakfast, and I’ll take him to school. We have only eight hours until he comes back. Hurry up.”  
“Alright. Alright.”  
**_EPILOGUE  
_ 4 years later,  
**“Can you go to the home alone, Scott? We have a case. JW”  
“Our son, of course, can find his way. He’s not a moron. SH.”  
Scott sighed. He finally decided to introduce them to Whatsapp was not a good idea. He lived with them for four years, and it was fun. Scott enjoyed himself very much. Their constant bickering was tiring sometimes, but they’re not awful parents. John was still worried about his mother’s influence. However, Scott occasionally accompanied Great Hills in charity events. Sherlock usually nagged about his career choice, and Uncle Mycroft was taking a distinct pleasure to poke him, saying he could help his nephew for a naval career. Scott had met mummy Holmes. Grandmother Holmes and William Scott Holmes-Watson didn’t get along fine, but it wasn’t so bad.  
His omega parent, Sherlock was still sick, but he just had begun to use novel antiretrovirals. Uncle Victor had said his condition slowly improved. They’re going to celebrate the news tonight.  
“Can you buy milk? SH.”  
“No need to buy milk. Go to home. JW.”  
“No milk in the refrigerator. SH.”  
“What happened. I bought half a dozen. JW.”  
“I used them. SH.”  
“All six of them? JW.”  
“Yes. SH.”  
“When? They were in the refrigerator at last night. JW.”  
“Is it relevant?. SH.”  
“Yes. How did you find a chance to... never mind. JW.”  
“Thank you. Now, he knows what we’re doing when he’s in school. SH.”  
“I didn’t say anything! You said it! JW.”  
Scott shook his head, chuckling. He startled as a hand touched his back. A petite, blond haired girl looked at him in discomfort. Scott frowned.  
“Mia? What do you want?”  
Mia was one of his classmates. She was a smart, and a silent omega girl. Her grandfather Blair was friend with grandmother Hills. Blair Durant was also one of the two representatives of EFE. Even though their grandparents had known each other for a long time, Scott and Mia had never been friends.  
“No one came to fetch you. Do you need a ride?” Scott blinked. Mia never talked with him before. She wasn’t bad to him, and she was charming –it’s necessary to specify-. What John was always said? Friends were good.  
“I... Yes, I need a ride. My parents... something came up.”  
They didn’t chat in the car. Mia only said that it was her father’s car. However, Scott liked her scent, it was strong, spicy, like coriander. Scott’s mobile beeped. He moaned inwardly. What now?  
“You are not allowed to date until you’re 18 years old, young man. SH.”  
“Date, what date? What are you talking about? JW.”  
Scott angrily typed his message. He didn’t care the thoughtful glance Mia threw to him. “I am not dating. WSHW.”  
“Tell that young girl, it would be good her health if you’re on Baker St. in ten minutes. SH.”  
“What girl? JW.”  
“The girl who likes Scott very much. SH.”  
Scott blushed. “Mia likes me? WSHW.”  
“William Scott Holmes-Watson, go to home, now. JW.”  
“Answer my question, does Mia like me? WSHW.”  
“Yes. SH.”  
“I don’t need a little chat with her, do I? JW.”  
“Don’t be so clear, John. SH.”  
“No one is good enough for my son. JW.”  
“May I remind you I am the one carrying, and birthing him. SH.”  
“How do you know she likes me? She never talked with me. WSHW.”  
“I know everything. SH.”  
“Smug git. JW.”  
“Why are you texting? You’re not together? WSHW.”  
“He’s standing at next to me. Jerk. JW.”  
“I’ll call the girl. SH.”  
Scott stopped dead. “No. No. Don’t. Just don’t. WSHW.”  
Mia’s phone started to ring. Scott paled. Should he say something? Before he could manage to talk, Mia opened her phone. Scott closed his eyes in despair. Her voice was a deep soprano. Damned her, she didn’t even flinch while she was speaking with his mad omega-parent. Maybe, it was normal since Mia was the granddaughter of Blair “Firecracker” Durant.  
“No, Mr. Holmes. I don’t have any inclination like that. I am aware of the fame of his parents and grandparents. My grandfather and Mrs. Watson are friends. Yes, Mr. Holmes, he’d be courting me in the rules. I won’t let him do anything inappropriate. I promise, Mr. Holmes, and I do not do anything to breach his virtue until the day I’ll lawfully wed and mated him.”  
“Oh shit.” Scott muttered in panic. “I am so dead now.”  
FIN


End file.
